


nothing scares me anymore

by viktuuriousred



Series: Frontier AU [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Adultery, Character Death, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Murder, Past Relationship(s), Suicidal Thoughts, Torture, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-06-21 19:08:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15564501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viktuuriousred/pseuds/viktuuriousred
Summary: The night in January that changed everything.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note: If you haven't read the first fic, stop right here and read it, otherwise you will not understand what's going on.
> 
> ***Content Warnings***
> 
> Mentions of rape, depictions of violence.

In 1878,  a man purchased a large amount of land in the Nebraska territory for farming. He supervised the clearage of the land and chose only the best spot for his home to be set at. He had a young bride, beautiful and shy, and she agreed it was lovely, too. They were both present when a body was uncovered during the construction of their home's basement. He must've been beneath an unmarked grave.

The body was identified as — —, two years later, after stories had been gathered and a report of a missing man seemed to add up. For this man, this —, had come to Nebraska eighteen years before his body was uncovered to collect his runaway bride, his mother —Mrs. Jennie Pierce—, told the authorities the details including that he had never returned. So the authorities thought their best bet to finding out what happened to this man was finding that runway, but he left Nebraska twenty years ago and hadn't been seen since. 

The only witnesses who knew anything about him said they noticed him at a bar one night in January and that he ordered several bottles of beer, but the bartender had long since disappeared, too, so the case turned cold. 

There are only three people who know what happened that night in January. 

Victor Nikiforov, Christophe Giacometti, and the man's alleged murderer, Yuuri Katsuki. None of their whereabouts were ever uncovered by those in search of them, but based off testimony and and written documents, this is what we assume happened that night...

* * *

_July 14 1857_

_My dearest Yuuri..._

_say the word and we will run away together, just as you always wanted._

_—_

July 31st, 1857

_Please, please leave me alone. I will give  
anything to keep you away from me._

Yuuri K.

 

_August 4th, 1857_

_just let me see you one last time, honey. Let me_  
_talk to you. I promise it'll be worth your while._

 

_August 7th, 1857_

_Come on, Yuuri. I've missed you so much. Just give me a chance._

_August 13th, 1857_

_I know you're fucking getting these letters, you filthy slut.  
Don't make me have to come and take you myself._

* * *

 

January, 1860

Fort Kearney, Nebraska

Previously...

_Not long after Yuuri had fallen asleep, Victor got up to make sure all the doors were locked and curtains shut. On his way back into the bedroom, he was startled to see that the window was partly open, even though it had been closed since last month…_

_Yuuri was clearly asleep and wouldn't have gotten up to open a window. He didn't sleepwalk, either, so that meant..._

_Victor hurriedly sifted through one of the kitchen drawers for his handgun, and the moment he felt it in his hand, he bolted for the front door. To his horror, once he rounded the corner on the side of the house, he found a person attempting to climb inside!_

_"Hey!"_

_The second the stranger caught sight of Victor, he made a run for it, but Victor was quick to follow him. He caught the stranger before they could even make it to the barn, 50 feet away. It was like a switched flipped in him; he ran faster than he ever thought he was capable of and he was more than willing to kill this person on the spot, even though he didn’t know their intentions. Gee, maybe it wasn’t Yuuri with the problem. Or maybe they both had one._

_The stranger was struggling to get onto his feet, but Victor held him face down in the dirt of their yard. He didn’t even say anything to the stranger, either. Because talking to him meant hearing something back and if this fucker dared to say anything about—_

_And then, the stranger started to laugh. They laughed like this entire situation was hilarious and they weren’t about to get their throat slashed. “D-Damn…” They wheezed from the amount of laughter (and perhaps running in the icy cold air), “you… you really are protective of him, aren’t you?”_

_Victor scowled. “What the hell are you talking about?”_

_“If you let me up, I’ll tell you.”_  
  
_“Not a chance.”_

 _They sighed. “All these years of observation and missed chances and chasing and I get taken down by you so quickly. Every time I’ve seen you before, you were never on the edge like this…”_  
  
_“How many times have you tried to break into my fucking house?”_  
  
_“Eh… this is the second time. Last time, you weren’t even there.”_  
  
_Victor pushed their face further into the dirt. “And where was I, you fucking stalker?”_  
  
_“Let’s see… it was 1856 and I believe Yuuri said to Mr. and Mrs. Crispino that you were away… but planning on coming back for a few weeks before you left again? And then Mrs. Crispino said to him—”_  
  
_“ What the fuck is wrong with you ?!”_

_The stranger used his free arm and elbowed Victor in the gut. Given his moment of surprise, the stranger sprung to their feet. He pulled out a gun before Victor could stand. “Don’t you know who I am?”_

_“You better not be who I think you are.” Victor panted, and he was slow to get up._

_“Or else what? What are you going to do if I, say… go in that house and fuck the shit out of Yuuri Katsuki?”_  
  
_“I’ll kill you.”_  
  
_“I’d like to see you try.” They whispered and motioned for Victor to get up. “Let’s go for a walk, sir. I think we should get to know each other a little better. For starters, my name is—”_

. 

"Were you born out here?" The man asked Victor, who had his hands tied behind his back and was being tugged along through the forest by his house. "You look like you were born out here. The beard, the flannel, the instinct to hog tackle the innocent guy outside your house."

"Innocent, my ass," Victor struggled against the binds at his wrists. "And no, to answer your question, I wasn't. I was born in Russia."

"So you're an immigrant. When did you come here? I can hardly tell you have an accent."

"I've barely spoken."

"Hm... I guess you're right." The man stopped in the woods in front of a worn cart and what Victor assumed was a horse. The cart is filled, and the man ushered Victor to sit amongst the mess and tied him to a post on the front of the cart so he couldn't escape. "Make yourself comfortable. You might find a few familiar trinkets back there."

"My arms are tied, dumbass."  
  
"Watch your fuckin' mouth, sir," He grinned at Victor and pat his head, then went to the front of the cart. "This brings me back to when I had sex with Yuuri in the woods by his college dorm. He was such a wild slut. Is he like that with you?"

"That's none of your business."

"I was just asking. Come on, Vic, you and I have something in common."  
  
Victor grit his teeth together.  _I'm going to fucking snap this rope if he dares to—_

"We both fucked the same pussy. Although by now, you might be close to catching up with how many times that I have, I can guarantee I could wring more climaxes out of him than you ever could. Why, I bet he's practically falling asleep under you from all that vanilla—"  
  
" _SHUT UP_!" Victor actually managed to snap the rope that tied him to the front of the cart, though his hands were still restricted— that's as far as he got before he grabbed Victor by the collar. "Calm the fuck down!" The man shouted, shoving Victor down onto the contents of the cart; well, he tried to. He pushed him so hard that Victor fell over the side and landed hard on the muddy road. The man rolled his eyes, cursing under his breath as he watched Victor sprint in the opposite direction. It wouldn't have taken him long to catch up if he could see in this dark forest. Victor could be literally anywhere. "You're a coward. A fast coward, I'll give you that much." He held up his lantern and looked around, frustrated that he couldn't even hear Victor, as if he'd literally disappeared. But he knew how to get him to reappear. "Guess that I get to go back to your house and take Yuuri th—"

The only thought that passed through —'s mind in the following second was: how and when the hell did Victor take his gun back, and where the fuck was he standing to get such a shot into my arm? " _Fuck_!" He wobbled a bit, yanking on his horse's reins. He dropped the lantern. "Come out, you  _coward_!"

"I'm the coward?" Victor emerges from the treeline, rifle (so, he's just like, keeping guns in the woods and shit) carefully aimed at him. "I'm not afraid of putting a bullet through you, —. The moment I heard about you on, I've always wanted to do it."

"Then do it, bitch!" The man opened his arms. "If you weren't a coward, you would've shot me already. The reality is that you don't have any bullets left. You missed your fatal shot and you know you're fucked because  _I_ still have a gun..." He smiled wickedly, reaching for Victor's gun slowly. "Put that rifle down and I won't put one through you. Let's get back to where we were headed anyway..."

.

"Do you like to drink? This beer hasn't gone bad and it's ice cold." Victor was led to a small campsite where the man had been staying for an unknown period of time, gun pointed at him all the way. It won't be as easy to escape this time, he knows. 

"I prefer vodka."

"Uh-huh..." The man passed him a bottle. "What about Yuuri? That boy could drink. I had to come up with so many excuses to his parents on why he got so fuckin' hammered when he was supposed to be at church or something..." He chuckled, taking a sip.

"Yuuri seldom drinks." Victor said, gripping his bottle.  _If he comes close, I could smash it over his head, grab the gun..._

“So, tell me about you and my Yuuri. You got a family together now?”

“Yeah…” Victor closed his eyes for a moment.  _Now I'm glad we haven't had a child._

“Shit, must’ve been nice. I knew Yuuri would want to get busy to hide what he had with me. He’s always been a slut. How many kids?”

It didn't matter what Victor said, his fate would remain the same, so he said nothing.

“No kids? Really?”

“No kids.”

“Then why the hell are you calling you two a family? Two isn’t a family.”

Victor swallowed, hard. “W-we were going to—”  
  
“Aw, that’s so sweet… you were going to start a family soon, right? Precious. Maybe I’ll let him ride your stiff dick after you’re dead to make your little fantasy a reality.”  
  
“You son of a—” Victor started to stand, until the gun was unsheathed again. “Ah-ah… I told you to behave, Victor.” The man sat back the moment Victor did and took a another lengthy swig of his drink. “Does he call you Victor?” When Victor shrugged and nodded, the man added, “He never gave me any pet names, but I always showered him in them. Mostly honey, he liked that.”

Victor appeared stricken for a moment, but stayed quiet.

“You’ve got to start doing some talking, Victor, because I am really curious to know more about you and what made you good enough for Yuuri to settle with. He ever tell you how many people he was with, even at once? Because damn, if you knew _that_ Yuuri you’d be as shocked as I am that he’s remained allegedly faithful for so long.” He felt his pocket for an envelope and tossed it across the ground between them. 

“Mm.” Victor hesitantly picked it up. It felt like there were photographs inside.  
  
“Good dick? Is that it? Can I check?"

“ — , I really don’t want to talk about this.”

“Well, I do. And I’m the one with the gun. So talk. I want to know every last detail." ***

He stood on Victor's legs and grinned. Crouching he palmed Victor's crotch in search for the zipper of his trousers. "Oh hold still, man. I'm not gonna fuck you or anything."

"Get  _off_!" Victor struggled to push his knees up, but this man was heavy and despite his strongest efforts, he still wound up exposed. Grinning, — tossed Victor's trousers and long johns aside. "Okay, now I see why he's been with you for so long." He got off of him and returned to his spot. "You're just as dramatic as him." 

Victor pressed his legs together, shivering in the cold night air. He picked up the envelope again and started to open it. There were photographs inside, though it was hard to see in the dark, he knew who they were of. The first wasn't so bad; Yuuri is pictured on a beach in his bathing costume. He had his chin resting against his fist and looked up at the camera with a slight smile. He was much younger in it. He turned to the next photograph and couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy.

“I love him.” — said simply, suddenly beside him to see which photo he was looking at. There wasn't an ounce of sarcasm, sinisterness, nothing... “Dearly. I always have.”  
  
“You have a funny way of showing it.”  _But there is nothing in this photograph that says Yuuri was always_ _miserable. In fact, he looks happy as can be here... with him......._

“I wasn’t always like this, you know." The man broke his gaze, but stayed in place. "Me and Yuuri really did love each other, and he wanted to marry me so badly. It was my mistake for not going through with it before I got him pregnant. Then everyone looked at me like I was as much of a slut as him. I lost my job, my place, my reputation. I started drinking a lot. Pills and tonics galore. And then I finally let out all my frustration on him that night on the beach... I don’t know why I thought that stomping his stomach was going to save anything because even after he left for you, my treatment didn’t improve at all. Shit, you should’ve seen the way his parents _looked_ at me when I came searching for him. His dad cast me out in front of everyone, threatened to shoot me if I didn’t leave. And to think that him and I used to be friends...” He carefully took the photo from Victor and ran a finger down it. "Ever think about how different things might've been if you hadn't made just one mistake? If I had taken him on that boat like he wanted, we would still be together." He sighed. "After Yuuri, I took one of my other pregnant lovers west and I tried to make things work, but I didn't love her. Didn't love that child, either. They both died of pneumonia within the first year. God's been really punishing me. I lost  _everything_ because of..."

"What, and you think he gained something?" Victor glared at him. "His parents threw him out, too, he was dying on that beach, he had to watch his child die and had no one in the world. Because of you."

"He did gain something, Victor. He had you, and in that point of view he had the world. Someone he didn't have to tell all his secrets to, someone he could just start fresh with. I bet he loves you." — said bitterly. For that brief moment, Victor thought he really saw through the man, that he wasn't all bad. But it didn't take long for the bitterness to return. "None of that fucking matters of course, since we're both going to end up dead." He snatched the first two pictures and threw the one with himself and Yuuri into the fire, the second just barely missing it.

He was left staring at nude photographs of Yuuri. He quickly looked away, as if he wasn't supposed to see it. "D-Did he let you take these..."

"Of course, on those first few. They were a gift of sorts. He was really confident in his body and what he wanted to do with it. Which is why you can imagine my shock at him being so timid and shy now."

The third picture is incredibly detailed, incredibly... revealing...

"He doesn't act like this with you, does he...?" 

Victor felt sick.

"No one can change that much, Victor, I'm telling you. He's got to be bored by now. I would be too, fucking in the same position time after time after time after—"  
  
"You don't know what we do."

"Don't I?" he poked Victor's head. "That last one there, that's from a couple years ago. He sent it to me while married to you, if that's proof of his boredom.."

"You're  _lying_..."

"How am I lying? That's your fucking house in the background, isn't it?" He laughed, practically shoving the proof in his face. "Man, you got played for a damn fool, Victor! I wonder what you did to make him hide so much of his self from you!"

Victor dropped the pile of photos and put his head in his hands.  _If what he says is true..._

"How’d you meet, anyway?”

“I… uhm…put out an ad because I was lonely and needed help.”

“That sounds kinda pathetic. You didn’t have the best luck in dating, did you? So you got desperate and had to waste money on an ad? Out of all the responders, you had to choose him."  
  
“I’m glad I did. Yuuri was wonderful and I’m grateful for every moment I spend with him.”  
  
“Wow, that’s… that’s something. So when I kill you in front of him, he’s gonna spaz, right?”

Victor felt like he was choking.

“So you’ve been dating for how long?”

“Married. Fi-five years.”

“Five _years_ ? Oh, damn… that’s, that’s… wow. I bet these five years were the best of your life then, huh?”  
  
Victor nodded rapidly.  _And I'd live them all again, I'd live every single one of them over and over again just so I could see Yuuri and change how he felt—_

“I bet you _really_ want to go home, then.” The man chuckled. “This makes the situation awkward, really, because I came here to _marry_ Yuuri myself…”

“What...?"  
  
“Oh, didn’t you know? Technically, I have rights to him because we had a child together. I guess that’s what I’m really curious about. I know there’s a child in that house with you two, so cut the shit. Is he my son? Did you raise my son, you fucker?” The man poked Victor’s shin with the rifle. “Tell me or I’ll go check myself.”

“Your ‘son’ never left the east coast. I can’t believe you’re trying to play the concerned father card when you’re the reason he’s dead.”

“Dead, huh?” He grinned. “Is he dead because of Yuuri being thrown from his horse or me stomping the shit out of his stomach? Why, I remember it like it was yesterday, how, before Yuuri knocked out, of course, how he was just begging me to _stop, stop_ , _please —_!”

Victor's fists were clenched.

"And God, that sex was something electric that evening.  I don't know, I loved it, I'm a crazy bastard."

"It may have been electric for you, but the fact that you don't even care about what you did does prove that indeed you are more than a crazy bastard. You're the fucking devil."

"What? Yuuri likes sex."

"And I like sweet potatoes, that doesn't mean I want them shoved down my throat. Just because he may have liked it doesn't mean he wanted it at that moment. You know damn well he wanted you to stop—"  
  
"—That's just how we play—"  
  
"You knew what you were fucking doing." Victor jumped to his feet, stomping over to the man, "You  _knew_   _exactly what you were doing,_ and your son will look down on you when I kill you, and you'll  _burn in hell_ —" A gunshot rung in Victor's ears, but it didn't hit him. Him and the man stood face to face, eye to eye. And Victor wasn't afraid in the slightest.

"You should be thanking me." The man whispered, face uncomfortably close to Victor. "I brought him to you... and just now I told you the truth..."  
  
Victor didn't back down. He didn't speak.

“So, what are you gonna do? Slit my throat, shoot me, tie me to a tree and burn it down?"

“Maybe all three.” Victor said darkly. "If you brought him to me, why are you still coming back?" Victor was tempted to spit on him, but he felt like it wouldn’t make much of a difference. “On our wedding night five years ago, he was shaking like a leaf, sobbing, because of you. No matter what I did, I couldn’t get you out of his mind.”

“He loved me, still,” The man suggested.

“I can’t imagine that being true, after what you did. But you didn’t answer my question. Why did you follow him and how did you find him?”  
  
He blew out a breath. “I asked around. I saw an ad in the paper about you, and I thought, if Yuuri wanted to get away, that coming to you would be a good escape. And if you weren’t with him, I wanted to go west anyway.  I didn’t find him right away as I was with my lover and daughter for a year, but when they died I went back to Independence to join a train west. And then I saw him.” Victor hated that the man genuinely smiled. “Beautiful as ever, wearing fine clothing and the most content of expressions. He went to the Crispino’s bookstore. I watched him from their back window, I was enamored… but eventually the sheriff caught me and I was locked up for the night for trespassing. I didn’t see him again, I was miserable. I _had_ to see him.”

Victor sat near him and started sharpening his knife. He didn’t want to listen, but knew he had to. The guns were on the ground.

“To my surprise, a year later we wound up on the same train. He looked so sad. I had to assume he was miserable with you, and I thought that perhaps if I approached him, he’d come back to me. He was standing on the balcony of the caboose and he was crying… I knew that was my chance. I opened the door, and… yeah that’s when the train derailed. That fucking hurt.” He glanced at Victor. “Good thing that came out of it was that I stuck around in Long Jack and I got to keep all of Yuuri’s possessions since you two idiots didn’t bother waiting for them. I kept it with me always.”  
  
“That’s creepy, sir.”

“Isn’t it? But it’s all I had.” He sighed. “Anyway, by the time I came back to Independence and actually found where you had been living, you two had moved out. So I lived in that house for awhile, I rented it from your worker. The sheets still smelled like him for a long time.”

_What am I supposed to do with this man? Killing him is the best option, but… I’ve never killed anyone before._

“I should mention that after the train derailed I found him in the woods and I touched him.”

And that is the exact moment that something changed in Victor. “You, you what?”

“He looked like Snow White awaiting her prince’s kiss… sure, he was bleeding, but that’s never stopped me before. It felt so good to touch his skin, to kiss him again… I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stop myself from taking him right then and there. Fortunately for you, people were coming and I had to get out of there. Of course, I saw him in Fort Laramie and we had a little rendezvous there, but—" His blood ran cold, he lost all his logic... this man claimed to have raped Yuuri after years of Victor  _swearing_ to Yuuri he would always be safe... he was just as worthless if he couldn't protect Yuuri! 

Victor grabbed his gun and aimed it at him, ready to pull the trigger. The man did not run. "Do it, Victor. Please." He held up his hands as a sign of surrender. "Both of us aren't going to make it out of here alive, and... you're the bastard with a gun." He took a step towards Victor. "The reality is you're too scared to do it. You don't know if it's worth it, going back to him, now that I've told you the truth. Your world has shattered around you, hasn't it?" He gulped. "Mine did a long time ago. I don't care anymore. I don't even know what I would do if I actually climbed through that window, if you hadn't have found me. Because he'd always want you. Hell, if I took him, he'd probably kill himself to get away from me. And that shit hurts. I've got nothing left now." He cocked his head to the side and glanced at Victor, up and down. "You're literally the one that was in the vulnerable situation, half naked and weaponless. And you turned that shit back onto me. Now I'm vulnerable, and you  _still_ won't kill me."

Tears streamed down Victor's cheeks, his hands shaking so hard that he nearly dropped the gun.

"I know you want to. You're probably thinking of all the shit I did to him and how God will never forgive you for killing me. Look at us, both fucked over by one fucking person and stuck in a situation like this. Do I deserve to die? Probably, but look at Yuuri. That adulterous bastard, putting us in this situation..."

"Y- _You did this to yourself_!" Victor screamed at the top of his lungs. " _How dare you blame Yuuri for anything, how dare you come near him again! Burn in hell_!"

" _Then fucking shoot me, Victor_!  _You're too much of a coward_!"

Victor wept bitterly as he shot the man in the shoulder, purposefully missing anything that would be an instant kill.  _I-I can't do it........ I can't._

" _Finish it off, you coward! How did you ever expect to protect Yuuri if you can't even protect yourself_?!" The man weakly walked up to him and put his hand on the gun.

"Burn in hell..." Victor whispered bitterly, flinching when the man put his finger over Victor's on the trigger.

He leaned in close, chest pressed against the front of the gun and whispered, "See you there."

He pulled the trigger, forcing Victor to shoot him in the heart.

.

_"Please don't look when you take the picture," Yuuri said shyly to the photographer in Independence, who humorously blindfolded himself in front of the camera. "Then what if the pictures don't turn out?"_

_"Then they don't, but... Victor would become quite jealous if I told him another man took a picture of me in such an exposed state."_

_"But you want him to have this picture, right?"  
_

_"So he has a few things to think about when he's away." Yuuri blushed, spreading his legs slightly. "Just take the picture and then show me how to develop it."_

_"Okay, whatever. Smile."_

_._

 

To be continued...

 

 


	2. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened after.

When Victor was a boy, his father always told him there would be a time in his life that he'd have to fight for the ones he loved. That it was part of being a man, in his instinct, so he wouldn't have to worry about if he was strong enough.  _You will be_ , he remembers his father saying one night on the porch of their crumbling home in Russia.  _You already are._

Victor was born on Christmas Day in 1827 high into some mountain range in Russia that he never told Yuuri the name of. He had a teenaged older brother who was from his father's previous marriage (that wife died when his brother was about ten years old), and eventually Victor had a younger sister named Camille, who died before they came to America. On their first attempt to settle in America sometime in the 1830s, they were turned away for their colds and something that Victor didn't understand. He always believed it was his own fault, because he had a nasty cough at the time.

So, they were shipped back to where they came from, and on the way, his sister passed. Frustrated, Victor's older brother came back to the country in early 1840 on his own, married a woman from the east, and the two of them were among the first to settle in some western town in the Wyoming territory. He hardly ever wrote to his family, but they followed him two years later. 

Victor's parents took him to Independence to settle, but he struggled immensely in the small town as a teenager due to his lack of English. He knew words here and there, but nothing to make a comprehensible sentence. His family was looked at differently by some people in the town because of their immigration status, and eventually, he grew fed up of it. He took some money from his parents and went east with the intention of going back to Russia on his own.

However, his plans quickly changed. For while the money was enough to get him east, it wasn't enough to get him across the ocean. He stayed in New York City for several years, sometimes living in apartments filled with fifteen people, sometimes being completely homeless. It was during this time that he learned decent English, picking up words from other immigrants as well as his employers. Once he was able to speak it himself, it broadened his opportunities. He had three jobs at once and knew that it would only be a matter of time before he could go home. 

On his first job of the day— being a busser at some busy diner downtown— he encountered someone that would completely change his plans. He had approached the table of a man who had stacked his plates neatly and was reading his newspaper, internally rehearsing what he was to ask him before taking the dishes. He cleared his throat, and the man glanced up at him, giving him a tiny smile. "Yes?"

"I take this for you, sir?" He nodded towards the dishes.

The man closed his newspaper. "Oh, yes, I'm finished. Say, your accent, it sounds familiar. Are you from Russia?"

Victor was a bit confused as he didn't understand everything that the man said.

And the man chuckled, repeating his question in fluent Russian.

Victor's eyes lit up. " _Yes, I am, sir_!"

" _How old are you, boy_?"

" _I am twenty_."

" _And you came here alone_?"

" _No, no, I came with my parents. But they are in Missouri._ "  
  
" _Missouri, huh? That's actually where I'm headed tomorrow_.  _Do you want to go and see them?_ "

"Victor, get back to work!" His boss stormed towards the two, and Victor was quick to take the man's dishes. 

By the time the dishes were washed and put away, the man was long gone.

That afternoon, once his shift was over, Victor found the man waiting for him outside the diner. He extended a hand. "My name is Josef Plisetsky, by the way. Do you have a minute, Victor?"

Josef tells him of his business, where he is from and about his family. He says he came to America as a young man, too, with nothing but the clothes on his back, but managed to make a name for himself. "The land of opportunity, isn't it?" He mused on his and Victor's walk to Victor's next job; a carpenter's shop several blocks away. "That's what I've always thought."

Victor didn't say much, for there really wasn't much for him to say at all. He didn't know much of this land. He couldn't enjoy it when he was constantly struggling to survive, anyway. He told this to Josef. 

Josef nodded. "I know. That's why I do so much traveling now. I got through the struggling part some time ago." He explains, "I made my first million at twenty one. Now I'm at a point where I could throw money at every man at this street and not so much as make a dent in my fortune. Believe it or not, having this much wealth does get boring, especially being alone." 

"So what do you do with your time?" Victor asks.

"I travel. I went west for some time, just came back this spring. You said your parents live in Missouri. Have you ever gone out there? You know, to Oregon?"

"Of course not. No time for that." 

"Would you ever want to?"  
  
Victor scoffed. "Not unless I was paid. There's probably nothing for me out there. But if I had time and the money to waste, then maybe."

Josef smirked. "What if someone made you an offer?"

Victor gave him a wary look and began to wonder if perhaps this Josef was actually just a con artist. "I'd listen."

"What if I gave you five thousand dollars to go to California and find some gold for me?" Josef Plisetsky was serious. He reached into his pocket to display that he indeed did have quite a bit of money on his person, and Victor was... shocked, to say the least. "Well, twenty five hundred today, and another twenty five hundred if you bring me back the gold, of course."

"What if there isn't any gold?" Victor asked him. "What if it's fake? What am I supposed to do when I get all the way to California to find nothing there?"

"Well, if that's true, you won't get the twenty five hundred. Of course, if you did happen to find something of similar value and present it to me by next spring, I'd perhaps pay you considerably."

"I... I don't know."

"Come on, Victor, what have you got to lose? Perhaps you'll go out there and find what you've been looking for, instead of going back to Russia. And who knows? Maybe what you've been searching for is right in this very country after all. You've barely gotten a taste of America. Aren't you up for a little adventure?"

Victor took one look at the bustling, smelly city, and extended his hand. "You have yourself a deal."

.

In March, Victor departed from Independence, Missouri after a brief visit with his parents. He was en route to California and traveled lightly with a group of men headed the same way. They assured him it wouldn't take as long to get to California this way because of their light loads and small group. He did, however, have to pay to come with them. And since he still had more than two thousand dollars with him, he agreed. 

It wasn't an easy trip. But all the men, save for their guide, were young and energetic and managed to avoid many dangers and sicknesses. They arrived in California in June and Victor staked claim on some land that Josef had instructed him on. It is unclear whether or not Victor Nikiforov ever encountered gold on the staked land in California. However, since the following May he was given more than ten thousand dollars by Josef Plisetsky, it is likely that whatever he found was of incredible value.

He also introduced Josef Plisetsky to Yuri Plisetsky's mother. 

.

After collecting his money, Victor returned to the west and set down to business. Something had changed in him because of his adventure. Some say he fell in love with the land, others believe he just saw the opportunity to get very, very rich. He bought a store in Independence and hired a few employees. He then built or bought several other posts from Missouri to Wyoming over the following year, and left the post in Fort Laramie, Wyoming, to his older brother to use as he needed financial assistance at the time. And while Victor's business was successful and he could've comfortably settled at any time, he still sought the thrill of traveling, like Josef Plisetsky, and took to becoming a tradesman at twenty one years old. 

He remembered camping alone in the wilderness in midsummer and looking up at the humungous sky, the endless stars above him and thinking,  _this, this is America_. He appreciated the silence, truly, and decided that one day, when he was ready to retire, he'd live in a place just like this. Alone, at peace, and fabulously wealthy.

And for a while, that dream stayed consistent.

Until 1854.

He met a beautiful young man who essentially stole his heart (and eventually, about 30% of his money). He had never been in love before and was not, for the record, in love with the young man. But god if he wasn't charmed. He actually was going to propose to the man. He was an only child whose parents died on the trail in '53, that's when they first met, and Victor took him in, which the young man was grateful for. And he always persuaded Victor to do things that he wasn't comfortable with.

Still, he never lost his virginity, which the man thought was hilarious, to be frank. And the night before their first anniversary, in the fall of '54, when Victor refused to give him what he wanted, he took whatever money he could find once Victor had fallen asleep and left him for another omega. I'm told that they are living comfortably somewhere in Utah.

After that, Victor figured it would be better to avoid relationships and other people in general, but unfortunately, life had different plans.

For, in December, he received a letter claiming that Josef Plisetsky was dead and had left his only son in Victor's care.

.

He made it to Baltimore in time for the funeral. Josef Plisetsky drew quite the crowd, he had to say, not that it really mattered. There were plenty of relatives present, which is why Victor read and reread the will in disbelief.  _Of all_ _people, why me_? He wondered, glancing at the toddler who hadn't stopped glaring at him since he entered the lobby of this church. 

There was no mistake. Josef made it quite clear that he wanted Victor to be his son's legal guardian and to oversee his son's inheritance until he was of age. 

He was introduced to many people before the funeral; aunts, uncles, grandparents, and none said a  _word_ questioning the guardianship. He wondered why they didn't want their relative. But one thing became apparent to Victor as he approached the toddler: he knew nothing about raising children. Without a doubt, he was going to need help. And it was unlikely that he could hire someone to care for the child... he didn't really want that. What kind of guardian would he be if he left this orphaned, traumatized child, with stranger after stranger to chase a dream that gave him nothing in return? 

Victor had just turned twenty seven. Maybe it was time to settle down anyway, and if so, it had to be very quickly, before the next season of travelers. But who on earth would possibly marry a man they didn't even know, by April?

Sighing, he knelt down in front of the orphan and tried to put that thought aside for now. "Do you want to get out of here? I don't like funerals, either."

.

"Okay, so today we have Esmerelda, Mary, Helga, Beatrice, Adam, Andrew, and Edeline. All their letters sound about the same and you look bored. So how about we go by pictures?" Victor held a stack of photographs in one hand and was about to set them down on the table in front of his new son when something slid through the mail slot in his temporary apartment. To his surprise, it was just a single envelope. He picked it up, took the letter and set it aside, then without looking at the photograph, added it to the pile. He spread the photographs across the table and turned to nurse his morning cup of coffee. "Pick which one you like most."

It didn't take ten seconds for a majority of the photographs to be slid onto the floor. Victor turned around to see that only one remained. He stood next to his son and was taken aback by the photo. "Y-You like this one, Yura?"

The toddler nodded. Victor flipped over the photo to find the name on the back and then was quick to find the name in the stack of letters.  _Yuuri, Yuuri, Yuuri— there!_

And it was that one letter, the difference in Yuuri's words compared to the others, that started it all.

.

 Five years later.

January, 1860

 

Victor stooped to pick up Yuuri’s pictures from the ground and looked at them tearfully, wishing they weren’t true. But he recognized the appearance of their bedroom in Independence, it was unmistakeable.

_Yuuri was… sending these pornagraphic images to this monster… why? Why would he do such a thing? Was he being forced?_

But no, the smug expression on Yuuri's face did not indicate force whatsoever. Like he actually wanted — to see him like this. His legs are spread and he's actually touching himself, looking right at the camera without an ounce of shyness.

God knows where Victor was when this went down. He could've been just downstairs!  

He wandered back to the man’s cart and let his horse go, then went to the back and started sifting though the man’s belongings. _I’ll have to burn these…_  

He finds a large amount of money in what he recognizes as his own suitcase, previously lost in the train derailment. Quickly, he stuffs as much of it as he can into his pockets and searched for more. He ended up finding about five hundred and fifty dollars, a lot of Yuuri’s prized belongings, clothes, shoes, lipsticks (?), earrings, and letters. There was one from Yuuri.

It was him begging for — to leave him alone. 

Victor pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to stay calm.  _If I don't stop looking through this, I'm going to end up shooting him again. And besides, it's a waste of time, anyway._

He ran back to his house, took one of his horses, and tugged the man’s cart to a shed far off into their property. He would discard of everything before dawn, and if Yuuri asked, Victor would tell him that the train that derailed finally reimbursed them and shipped their belongings, as per Victor’s request. 

He then put the body on the front of the house and went to find Christophe, the only man that he trusted to help him with this. Besides, he owed him one. 

“What the hell do you want?” He heard Chris murmur before even opening his apartment door. Bleary eyed, he gasped the moment he saw Victor.  
  
“Please, you owe me one…”

***

“How did it feel, killing him?” Chris asked, shoveling into the dryest ground they could find at some late hour in the night. Victor was beside him, doing a terrible job. I don't even think he was shoveling the dirt. He was pretty much just shoveling the air because he was distracted. And he looked so afraid. Every now and then he'd spare a glance at the body, as if he was going to get up and complain about how much his chest hurt right now.

“I didn’t kill him.”  
  
“You didn’t? Then why are we hiding his body?” Chris rested against his shovel. 

“W-Well, I did… I shot him a few times, b-but…”  
  
“But…?”

“He pulled the trigger, he made me— mmmph…” Victor doubled over, suddenly vomiting. Chris grimaced. “Okay, nice. That’s another mess to clean up.” He was surprised to see Victor looking ready to faint, and was quick to stand by his side and help him to stay standing. “Shit, you’re really in a wreck over this, aren’t you? Do you want me to take you home and finish myself?”

“N-No… that’s not fair on you. I’m the one that… that—”  
  
“Okay, okay, Nikiforov, we don’t need you barfing again, just take it easy. Based on what you told me I’d say he sure as hell deserved it.”

“T-that d-doesn’t matter…” Victor said weakly. “He… had _pictures_ of Yuuri, that _Yuuri gave him_.”

"Wow... really? Is that why you're vomiting? That's insulting to Yuuri." Chris took Victor to sit in the back of his cart. "Hey. Talk to me. You're looking really rough. What exactly happened?"

And Victor told Chris what I've told you, about how the man stripped him — mentally and physically, really— and that he went on and on about his past with Yuuri, his stalking, and so on.

He doesn't tell him about a missing piece that keeps him awake far into the future. It is something he never told Yuuri, or anyone else for that matter. 

The truth is— and I will keep this brief— he did more to Victor than strip him and grope him that one time. Victor thinks he wouldn't be as bothered later on in the future if that's all it was. But the man got him hard and he essentially was forced to ejaculate.

— insisted that Victor liked it.

...

"Victor. Seriously, are you going to be okay? You keep spacing out." Chris waved a hand in front of him, frowning at the lack of reaction. "Look, I'll take care of this, I mean it. If you don't want to go home, why not go on to the bar? It's closed for the night, but I'll get you a drink or two when we get there and you can crash at my place if you want."

"I'm the one that did this!" Victor snapped. "Why would you help me if _I'm the one that did this_?"

Chris put a hand on his shoulder. "Because you're a mess. And if I let you do it, someone will find his body. So go on. You can trust me."

.

Victor walks perhaps ten feet away from the plot before vomiting again and stumbling over. He clawed the dirt and swore, wondering if perhaps he shouted loud enough he wouldn't be able to remember anymore.

_You will be strong. You already are._

_I'm not._

Victor listens to Chris starting to drag the body towards the hole. He wonders how long it'll be before his body is uncovered. And how long after that will it be traced back to himself? He can see it now, the local sheriff coming to his house in a day or two. She won't even have to ask Victor, the evidence is all there. And Yuuri will plead with her, but she will tell him to stay back, that he can visit Victor on death row.

How can he even tell Yuuri about this? Telling him would mean— if Yuuri hadn't cheated, anyway— relieving all of his worries, but... it is clear that he  _did_ cheat with this man, and therefore telling him would mean breaking his heart. What a mess he was in. Eventually, he forced himself onto his feet and helped Chris with the burial, hands shaking so badly he dropped the shovel more than a dozen times.

.

"Go on and sit by the fire, I'll get you something to drink." Chris locks the door of the bar. "And you can wear something of mine until your stuff's dry. I'd imagine you wanting to go home as soon as possible." Chris sifts through various bottles. "It was vodka, wasn't it?"

"Yeah."

"I'll get you a bottle to go. You know," Chris passed Victor the glass and sat beside him with one of his own, "This shit's all that's gotten me through the divorce. If I didn't have a bottle with me at all times I'd probably have..."

Victor gives him a pitied look. "You aren't over her, are you?"

"Why should I be? She is the love of my life." Chris tipped his head back to consume the contents of the glass in one gulp. "I just tell her I'm seeing others to make her jealous. I don't think she cares."

"So... does drinking really help?"

"See for yourself."

***

* * *

 March, 1860

Nebraska

_Dear Mom,_

_I write this not to update you on any good news. I write this not with the intentions to complain about anything and remain in my miserable state. I am writing to ask a tremendous favor of you: I need to come back home. No, Mom, I am not making a rash decision. I have weighed my options and thought over this for weeks now. There is no alternative currently; Victor and I simply need to separate. Make no mistake, I love my husband and want nothing more than to live contentedly with him. But at this rate, it simply cannot happen. I have tried to reach out to him, I have begged him to talk to me. But he has become indifferent since January, and I have no idea why. He's like a completely different person. All he does is drink, wasting his days away with a bottle in hand and hardly speaks to me except when I come up to him. I haven't done anything differently to cause his change of opinion in me and it is very discouraging, especially since we were about to begin trying for children. I suppose it was never meant to be. Even as I write this letter, Mom, he is downstairs working on his fifth bottle of the evening. He doesn't take care of himself, deriving so much from the Victor I have come to love over these past five years. I don't know what to do at this point. I will give him an ultimatum in a few moments. If things don't go as I sincerely hope they will, then I will be on my way east._

_Yuuri_

.

“I got the highest grade out of everyone in my school on my writing assignment.” Yura stands awkwardly beside Victor, who’s slouched by the table and finishing his fifth bottle of a mystery substance. They had supper an hour ago and all the dishes were put away, so now was the part of the evening when they actually used to relax for a while. But ever since this new Victor came about in January, it feels impossible to relax. And Yuuri has become increasingly upset as of late, which makes it harder than ever. “Do you wanna hear it?”

“Mmhm.” 

Yura gets through a sentence before stopping. “You’re not listening.”

“I am listening.” 

“I don’t know how you could listen with all that drinking you do! You never listen to anything anyone says anymore.”

Victor simply takes a lengthy sip.  _If only you knew, little boy. If only you knew._

Yura gives up on reading to him. He's given up on pretty much everything to do with Victor at this point, since he's been so different these past few months— _since he killed that man_. Victor thinks he doesn't know, but Yura overheard Christophe Giacometti talking to Otabek's stepfather about it a few weeks ago and has known ever since. “You have to stop. You’re making Yuuri upset, you know.” He assumed Yuuri already knew about the murder. Perhaps that's why he is so upset. He thinks that Victor will go to jail or something.

“What do you know, anyway… what did he say to you?” Victor suddenly appears interested in what he's saying, which is... very annoying. 

“Something about an anniversary?”

“Ah, ah… that’s not until next week!” Victor says triumphantly. “I haven’t forgotten that.”

“But it’s special and he thinks you aren’t doing anything for it.”

“Yeah? That’s because I’m not.”

“Otabek says that’s why people get divorced.”

Victor chuckles. “Have we reason to?”

“Yuuri told Otabek’s dad you’re a smelly drunk and need a shave.”

“That so?” He laughs, walking over to the ladder leading to his and Yuuri's bedroom. “Yuuri, do you think I’m a smelly drunk?!”

Yuuri rolls his eyes, pushing his glasses up. How desperately did he want a new pair…He closes his journal and stuffs it under the mattress. He smooths the front of his nightgown and takes a deep breath.  _Now or never_ , he thought. He was afraid. Truly. Afraid of what very well might happen. His eyes flit to his open wardrobe where an outfit sits out, ready to be put on. His duffel is packed under the bed. "Victor." His voice is going to be confident, he promised himself. 

"Hm."

"Would you come up here, please?"

"What for?" He hears a bottle get set down on the kitchen table.

"I need you."

Every second that he listened to Victor's footsteps, his heart raced. If he's not serious with Victor, Victor will think that he won't actually leave. And he will leave if need be.

"What do you need, _detka_?" He isn't anywhere near the ladder now. He's seriously not going to listen? 

Sure enough, Victor’s starts shouting downstairs again about being a sour smelling drunk (it’s six pm, for crying out loud!), and Yuuri becomes fed up. He reaches under the bed and grabs his duffel, then calmly climbs down the ladder. Yura looks at him with concern. “Come on, Yura, you can stay at Otabek’s house tonight.”

Yura nods and walks outside, Victor protesting, mostly mumbling about how it doesn’t make sense for them to leave, where is he _going_ …

Yuuri pries Victor’s hands away and says calmly, “You are not the man I thought you were.  I don’t know what happened to you or if this is how you always have been.” Yuuri looked into his eyes. “But you’re not the man I married.”

“Wha—“

“I want him back.” Yuuri says tearfully. “And if he isn’t in you anymore then I… I…” He backs towards the door, “I am leaving for the night. I need some time to myself, I’m sure you understand that need.”

Victor nods solemnly. “Do whatever you want tonight, but this isn't how it's going to be."

“I’m going to give you one chance, Victor. One. Tell me what’s going on and I’ll stay, I’ll help you through whatever it is, just… stay…” Yuuri clutches his bag. “But if you don’t, I— I won’t come back. I’m not living like this.”

Victor can’t tell him, and so Yuuri leaves. The first night, he stays with Chris, surprisingly enough, because he thinks Victor wouldn’t come looking for him here. Chris was a bit confused that Yuuri came to him in the first place, but was kind enough to offer Yuuri his bed and took to sleeping on the couch.

He moved to the town near Fort Kearney several years ago and owned two bars now. He said it was very, very boring work that he wasn’t passionate about, but it “kept his mind off things”.

“Does Victor come to your bar a lot?” Yuuri muses over their small supper that evening. He doesn't feel any better about leaving and isn't sure how long he’ll be away. How long he can stand to be away. “He’s getting all that from someone, I’m guessing it’s you. He never drank like this before.”

“Yeah, he comes every few days. He hasn’t told you what’s bothering him?”

“No. He just does his chores, then drinks, then goes out to hunt, comes back and drinks again, and goes to sleep, and I hate it. When I- when I offer myself to him, when I try to comfort him, when I try anything, he just turns me away, rejects me… I feel like he’s lost interest in just about everything, but especially me.” Yuuri can hardly touch the food, he felt sick, be it about Victor and their failing marriage or something else… “I was sick this morning and too weak to cook. And he just continued about his day, he didn’t offer me anything. It’s like I ceased to exist, to him… and it’s so hurtful. I don’t know where my husband went, but… it’s been like this since January. And I can’t keep living like this, which I told him. And he didn’t try to stop me from leaving. D-Do you think he stopped caring?” 

“No, I don’t,” Chris says, “but I don’t really know him that well. Every time I’ve seen him and asked about how you are, he’s been upbeat and talks highly of you. Tell me, when’s the last time you two… you know…”

“Twice this year.”

“Mm. Well, give the man his space, I guess. If he wants to act like an ass, so be it, but you shouldn’t have to suffer for it, you know?”  
  
“Yeah.” Yuuri forces a smile. “It just makes me so sad. We were doing so well.”

“Yeah, you were. But I’m sure things will get better.”

. 

In the morning, Yuuri wakes up to Chris coming into the bedroom and instinctively pulls the sheets up to cover himself, though he has nothing to hide. Chris chuckles and kneels by the bed to sift through his drawer. “Guess who’s here?” He says, putting on a shirt over his longjohns. 

“Mm?”

“Your husband is here to collect you.”  
  
“Are you going to stop him?”

“Do I have rights to do that?” Chris smiles weakly. “Get dressed, okay?”

.

Yuuri puts on his ugliest of the two outfits and sits on the bottom step, chin in his hands, when Victor walks towards him. “Hey…”

“Let’s just go home, I’m not in the mood to talk.” Yuuri says, choking back tears as he brushes past Victor to climb into the wagon.

But Victor doesn’t drive towards the house. He doesn’t drive towards the fort. He just keeps going and going, and it’s still dark out. Yuuris fear multiplies by the second, he feels. Soon, he can’t even see the fort.

He grips his knees and tries not to show how badly he’s shaking right now. And then he just snaps and takes it out on Victor. He shoved him so hard that he nearly fell off the cart while saying, “You’re a _dick_!” He sobs, “you’re really going to kill me for trying to leave you!”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You!!! You have been acting so strangely I knew it was a matter of time until you did this!” Yuuri starts to climb down from the wagon and screams when Victor grabs his arm. “Let me go! Let me go!!!”

“ _Yuuri_ —!”

“ _I want my husband back_ , goddamnit!!! Hic-hic— you’re an alcoholic who doesn’t love me anymore and I’ve never felt worse!”

“What are you—“

“I want _real passionate love_! I want my _life back_! And I want _you!!!_ And apparently I can’t have any of those things!!!”

“You are so… shallow…”

“I wish you’d just tell me what’s wrong instead of hiding from me! If you’re angry with me, if you need to let out some rage because of something I did, just- just hit me or something, I can take it! I’d rather be hit than be hurt by you pretending I don’t exist!”

“I could _never_ hit you—“

“I wish you would! I _wish_ you’d just punish me for whatever I’ve done to you and we could _move on_!!!!”

“ _I am not going to hit you!_ ” Victor lowers his voice, brushing a hand against Yuuri's cheek, “Why would you want me to do that? It would hurt you, destroy your trust in me, and it would hurt me, too. I don’t want to hurt you, ever, okay? I won’t, no matter how much you beg me to. It’s not going to make me feel better.”

Yuuri ends up knelt on the ground, fists to his eyes as he weeps bitterly. “I don’t know what else to do.”

“Come here, love, and let’s talk.”

They sit side by side on the ground. “Why did you go to Chris?”

“I didn’t know of anyplace you wouldn’t think to look, so I just thought of a place you wouldn’t want to go.” Yuuri says.

“I’d go anywhere to get you back, let’s be clear on that.” Victor kisses Yuuri's cheek. “But what’s the matter? What’s upsetting you?”

“Victor, it's just that you're...a-and I’m—“ And as he is about to tell him, he thinks of how often Victor has ignored him as of recent and turns away.  Yuuri wipes his cheeks and climbs into the cart once more. Just as Victor is about to join him, he says, “I don’t want to go anywhere now. I know I said I wanted a vacation before, but, now isn’t a good time. I’m sorry. I just want to go home.” 

“You were begging for months, and.. I just thought it might be nice to go away for our five year anniversary.”

“Where, though?” Yuuri sniffed. “I want a real vacation, not a night at an inn. I’m willing to wait for a legit vacation, is all I’m saying.”

“But you are so unhappy. I-“ Victor stops himself. “I’ll think of something. But you will have to trust me, okay?”

 

***

 _Victor_ ,

_By the time you discover this letter,_

It is the eve of his fifth wedding anniversary, Victor was due back days ago and Yuuri’s heart and mind are in places they haven’t been in a very long time. Most of the reason he survived his miscarriage six years ago was because he was never left alone. In his lowest moments, Lara would pop in with tea or cookies or to ask some ridiculous favor of him that he knew didn’t actually need to be done. Or she’d “look for laundry” and end up sitting at his bedside for what seemed like hours, listening to every last ugly thought that came from his brain.

_I will be long gone. And I am sorry you have to find out in such a way, but I have given you so many chances. All I asked for was for you to talk to me and you refused. Do not act surprised when you find an empty house. You had this coming._

_Do not bother trying to find me. Even if you do, I will not allow you to come near me again. You don't deserve me, Victor Nikiforov, after what you've done. And you will never hurt me again._

Yuuri takes one last look around the small house he's come to love over the past three years and nods to himself. He leaves the note on the kitchen table and walks out of the house, Yura trailing behind him uncertainly. "I can come with you, can't I?"

"I don't know."

"You're not gonna leave me with Victor...?"

"I don't want to, Yura. You're more of my son than his. But I have no clue on how that custody works. So..."

Yura nods. "So he could come get me if he wanted to."

"Technically, yes. While Victor and I are married, as he is your adopted father, you would, by default, also become my adopted son. But if we are to divorce, then he's still your adopted father, and I..."

"I don't like that." His son says stiffly, and Yuuri notices tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. "I don't want you to leave me, so... so don't divorce him."

Yuuri's heart ached in his chest and he set down one of his bags. "I won't leave you, if that's how it is going to be. But... Victor is coming back sooner or later, and I don't want to see him right now. Why don't we go visit Otabek? I'm sure he wouldn't mind a sleepover."

"Will you stay, too?'

"If they let me." Yuuri ruffles his hair.

.

It was foolish, Yuuri thinks, for him to think he could leave so easily. Even if he wants to, it's up to Victor to actually let him. And then there's a matter of finances; Yuuri has no means to provide for himself, even enough to get a ticket east. There's also his conscience screaming at him to stay, mostly for the sake of his adopted son, but there's something else— a sneaking suspicion that Yuuri's too afraid to confirm right now, and won't even utter it aloud in fear of it being true.

His cycle is still late. It was late in March and it is late now, which  _should_ confirm his suspicion. But for some reason, Yuuri's believing if he can just not acknowledge it, it won't be so.

That doesn't mean he can't worry about it, though. And unfortunately, his worry shows.

He is sitting in the Parkers' kitchen mending a pile of various clothing. Michael is sitting in the rocker with Minnie, who is coming in on three years old now. She's asleep against his chest, and he's deep in a book. Well, Yuuri thought he was. For when he pricks himself the fourth time with his trusty sewing needle, Michael comments, "When are you due, my friend?" so casually as if Yuuri has made it obvious. 

" _Michael_..."

"You and I are alike, and obviously I can pick up on the smell of it from my own experience. Now, the baby's father won't if he's never been around a pregnant omega, but the question is, are you going to inform him?"

"How can I tell him I'm pregnant and then leave him?" Yuuri hisses, careful to keep his voice low so that his son won't hear. 

"So you aren't going to tell him at  _all_? Yuuri, that's just plain stupid. Our deliveries are often difficult, you know this, and you will need all the assistance you can get."

"I'm not staying somewhere when I'm going to be ignored." Yuuri held his finger to his mouth so he wouldn't drip blood onto the white shirt. "I can raise a baby alone. I don't want it to have to be that way, but God, Michael, haven't you  _seen him_? He's a different man. Do you think I want a man like that to raise my child?"

"Suit yourself, Yuuri, but the only person you're going to hurt by hiding that baby is yourself. Keep that in mind." Michael stands. "I'm going to bed. Try not to stay up too late."

Yuuri soon decides that he isn't slightly tired. On a normal night when he had trouble sleeping (before Victor changed), there were things he could do. He could ask Victor to walk with him outside and sometimes they'd end up sitting on the porch together until the wee hours of the morning, just... talking. About life, about dreams and memories. And it was really, really nice. Now that he is alone, he's unsure of what to do with his spare time besides crying over the fact that his anniversary is tomorrow.

What would Victor do?

The new Victor would probably head to the local bar. Drink until dawn and then do his version of tip-toeing back into the house, then sleep for most of the day.

Hey, sleeping for most of the day tomorrow doesn't sound like a bad idea. 

.

Yuuri changes into his only clean pair of slacks and a white dress shirt. He combs his hair back and colors his lips, then tries not to stab his eye when dragging the pencil for eyeliner. He's had these things with him for years and probably only used them twice, never since coming into Nebraska. It's funny that the one time he does decide to use them, it isn't for Victor. 

The sky is clear tonight, but it is cold and Yuuri curses himself for not bringing a wrap at least. He puts that thought aside when he catches sight of Chris' bar.  _Just a couple drinks. Then I'll go back._

The bar is noisy tonight as it is Saturday and most of the individuals are going to be resting tomorrow. It's mostly soldiers, telling stories and laughing ridiculously loudly at things that aren't even remotely funny. They're probably drunk.

And then there's Chris, talking to Victor(!) who is sitting on the floor in the back corner of the bar. Yuuri's eyes narrow and he walks up to the first person he sees. "Can I borrow your drink real quick?" He gives them no time to respond before taking the drink, and within a few seconds has emptied the contents of the glass on Victor's head. "Have you  _anything_ to say for yourself?!?!"

Chris laughs, and Victor continues to sit there, eyes half shut and completely unbothered by what just happened. He's probably already drunk. "It's  _not_ funny, Chris!" Yuuri turns to him. "How long has he been here? Why do you serve him when you know he should be coming home!?"

"Oh, he's been here for a couple of hours. Doctor's drugged him up so much that he doesn't even know his first name. It's what he gets for being an idiot and trying to hurry home during a storm." Chris smirks. "Thrown from a horse, got stabbed with some shit, so major that almost went through him completely. And then has the nerve to beg me not to tell you, like this drugged fool could hide it. And then you come in, and turns out he could've actually gotten away with it."

Yuuri's jaw drops. "W-wha—" He sinks to his knees and puts a hand to Victor's cheek.   
  
"I'm just kidding, he's drunk."

After Yuuri gives him a look, Chris guffaws and goes back to tending the bar. Victor's eyes droop shut.   
"Victor."  
"Huh."  
"Do you even know who I am?"  
"Hmmmmmmmmnope."  
Yuuri's eyes water, but he feels nothing but bitterness. "This is the only time I'm going to tell you. I'm expecting."  
"Expecting what?"  
"Your child."

Victor mumbles under his breath. "Look, I don't know who you are, but I'm a married man, and I haven't been with anybody else other than my beloved."

"He can't be your beloved if you don't even recognize him sitting right in front of you. Idiot." Yuuri leaves him on the ground in the bar. He orders two bottles of champagne to go and returns to his own home where he drinks for most of the night.

.

In the morning, Yuuri watches Victor's walk of shame up of sorts to the front door, which Yuuri has locked. He knocks on it and looks through the window at Yuuri in the kitchen, who glares at him while finishing the last of one of the bottles. He can see Victor's mouth forming the words "let me in", and his anger only multiplies. It is their fifth wedding anniversary. They were supposed to have left days ago and should have been on vacation right now, all alone and enjoying each other's presence. But now, Yuuri wants to throw this bottle through the window at his husband.

When Yuuri continues to ignore his request, Victor eventually resolves to reaching into his pocket and pressing two small papers against the window. They are train tickets. 

Yuuri slams the bottle against the table— it shatters— and throws open the window. "Eat the damn tickets! What the hell is wrong with you, Victor?!" Before Victor can even try to explain himself, Yuuri slaps him, regretting it instantly. He holds his own, stinging hand, and gapes at Victor— the surprise in his expression is making him so very guilty— and slowly backs away from the window. 

To Yuuri, this moment was his lowest point. He actually slapped his husband out of pure anger, and for that, he was just as bad as the man who had hurt him so terribly in the past. He felt that his entire world had just come crashing down. There was no way they could recover from this. It was truly over.

Before Victor can reach through the window to unlatch the door, Yuuri hurries into the bedroom and locks the door behind him. Now that he has the chance to leave, he doesn't want to. Why did he feel so strong, so okay with leaving yesterday?

He sobs into his pillow. Eventually, his exhaustion gets the better of him and he sleeps until the late morning. When he wakes, the first thought that comes into his head is himself repeating his wedding vows shyly, this day five years ago. But specifically, "in sickness and in health, for better or for worse", and suddenly Yuuri realizes what he needs to try and do.

 But his plans are temporarily stalled by the nausea growing in the pit of his stomach, just like how it will be every day from now on. He decides not to tell Victor about the baby again, at least not for a few more weeks, until he can be sure that they will actually survive the riskiest part of the pregnancy. Plus, it will be interesting to see how long it takes for Victor to guess. 

Until then, it wouldn't be a bad idea to check again to see how Victor feels about babies.

Plus, Victor's literally standing outside the door (how long has he been there).

“Victor.” Yuuri slips off the bed and moves to unlock the door. 

“Hm?” 

Yuuri, even though he's tired and frustrated, can't help but to smile at Victor confirming he's been standing there. He opens the door. “What if we had a baby?”

“Broad question.” Victor brushes past him and pulls Yuuri's hands so that they both reach the bed at the same time. Victor sprawls out, and Yuuri hesitantly lays at his side.

“Okay. What if I was pregnant right now. How would you feel about that?”

Victor’s eyebrows twitch but he grins. “Well, I guess that would be okay, not that it’s possible, being that I haven’t knotted you this year.” 

“Y-you… what?”

“And, on this topic, I have been thinking about it a lot recently. I don’t really know if I want kids. For a while I just thought, maybe not now? Buf I realize we can’t put it off forever. And I’m really not enjoying the idea of having kids. Not that it’s you, of course, it’s just— things aren't well for me. The baby would do so poorly, you know? When I'm feeling this way in such an unpredictable mood, and I wouldn't want that to affect the baby."

“B-but…” 

“And your terrible miscarriage. You told me how difficult the recovery was. I could never willingly do that to you, cause such a risk.”

Yuuri buries his face in Victor’s chest. “Okay.” 

"I have something I want to talk to you about, too."

Yuuri can tell it's important based on how Victor's heartbeat quickens. "Okay, I'm listening."

Victor bites his lip. "This is really difficult to talk about, but I think you need to know that I—"  _"The reality is you're too scared to do it. You don't know if it's worth it, going back to him, now that I've told you the truth. Your world has shattered around you, hasn't it?"_ Victor flinches and brings a different truth to the surface, one that's completely caused by his deepest secret. Victor lifts a hand to cover his reddening face and speaks shakily, "I often consider ending my life."

He can feel Yuuri jolt, he's shocked, and Victor's running out of time to explain himself. "Something... happened. A few months ago. I'm not really ready to open up about that, but because of it I just... I hate feeling this way, because I've got such  a good life, you know? None of this is your doing, and it won't go away." He feels no better for admitting it, but continues anyway, "You wonder why I drink so much. Why you might see me cutting up too much firewood? I'm just trying to distract myself. And... I'm sorry to have to put this burden on you? But I'm tired of keeping it to myself. I don't  _want_ this at all. I just want things to go back to how they were before."

"So do I," Yuuri's voice squeaks, "b-but... if we can't go back, what can I do to help you moving forward?"

Victor sighs, "My parents... ah— they aren't getting any younger, you know, and um... they had written to me, asking if I'd be willing to visit—" Yuuri already looks miffed at the mention of his parents, no doubt thinking about their stay with them several years ago— "for the summer, so I can help them with the farm. I think that'd really give me time to think, and... a change of scenery never hurt anyone."

"Are those what the tickets are for?" Yuuri asks.

"No, I was just thinking that perhaps,  _if_ I am to go away for the summer, that you and Yura could go someplace, of your choosing. Don't let me ruin your vacation. And before you say it, I know you don't want to go to Independence, so..."

"So you would go to your parents, but when would you leave? And when exactly would you return?"

"I won't leave until after we're done with the planting. Maybe the end of May. And I would expect to be home in the early days of September. Maybe not even that long. I could come home if you ever—"  
  
"No—" Yuuri cuts him off. "I want you to get better. I want you to do whatever it takes to feel better, alright? Just... please make sure to be back in September."  
  
"Very well."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So hello.
> 
> This is pretty much it. Next time in the main story, it'll fill in the gaps from April-September. We're coming close to the end now... wtf? Can't believe I've actually committed to this! I'm actually going to finish it! :O!!!


End file.
